


Thirty Minutes Or Less

by 1JettaPug



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Burns, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Food, Gift Fic, Humor, M/M, Making Out, Male Slash, Rock Stars, Sensuality, Sexual Content, Suggestive Themes, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 00:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: “What do you want, Gene?”“Sausage,” Gene purred, deeply. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair before slowly making their way down to his jeans, rubbing themselves against his thighs. “Seven solid inches of nothing but the best sausage New York has to offer its king.”





	Thirty Minutes Or Less

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruriruri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruriruri/gifts).



> This work is a gift that I proudly present to Ruriruri for their wonderful works. Inspiration is not the word I would find powerful enough to tell you just how cords they've stuck in my body with all the work they put into their KISS fics. It's much more than one single word, but at least I can offer up a tribute in thanks.
> 
> (PS. if you're from Chicago, I apologize for the pizza bashing that's about to happen. They're guys from New York, so of course they automatically despise y'alls pizza. Them's just the facts... Or at least the facts I can put together as someone from Virginia.)
> 
> Enjoy~!

Gene found himself lost in his eyes. God, those eyes. It was always his eyes. Anyone could get lost in them. They were the most decadent chocolates in the whole world. 

Of course, it hadn’t just started with him getting lost in his eyes. No, no. Gene had found himself getting swept away the moment Paul walked in the living room, all cleaned up. He had shaved, showered, and got dressed in an old black t-shirt and red pinstriped pajama pants. He had even slipped his feet into those ridiculous cat slippers that Peter had gotten him last year as a joke gift. Ah, but Gene couldn’t judge him too harshly on the slippers since he was wearing socks that used to be white until they got put in the wash with one of Paul’s red scarfs.

Oh, but he soon found himself meeting up with those mesmerizing eyes, as his gaze traveled up his body. The way they captured his attention was amazing, and he got so lost that he hardly noticed when Paul leaned over from his seat and tapped him on the arm.

“ _Gene_!” Gene blinked a few times, trying to recover his train of thought.

“Huh, what? What’s wrong?” he asked him. He sat up in his arm chair, his red tank top falling back down over his stomach from where it’d scrunched up to his chest as he lounged.

“I’ve been asking you what you want to eat for dinner for like five minutes, man.” Paul said, leaning back in his leather seat. “Are you just really tired today or something, cause you’ve just been staring at me since I walked in the room.”

Gene scratched at his neck, ignoring that red flush that began to dust his cheeks. He played it off, well, saying, “I was just thinking…”

“About what you want to eat?”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh- Hey, let’s order up some pizza. It’s been literal ages since we had some damn good pizza.”

“You’re just saying that cause we just came back from Chicago last week,” Paul said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” Gene nodded, causing the dark stands of his hair to bounce atop his head. “And their pizza _sucked ass_ and it had too much damn garlic and little bits of shit embedded in the sauce. _Bleck_ , I can still kinda taste it know that I think about it.”

“Hahahh, yeah I think I know what you mean.” He chuckled, lightly. Paul then moved over into his personal space and slid his hand over Gene’s arm. He looked at him through his lashes, saying, “Now if I order the pizza, will you start cleaning off the table, or will you be too busy staring at my swaying hips while I call it in?”

Gene groaned and made a pained expression. “Paaaaauul, c’mon! Don’t tease a man like this…”

“I will,” Paul proclaimed, pulling his hands back ever so slowly, jumping off him by the time they reached his fingers. “And it’s not been too hard to do it this evening, either.”

A long sigh ran past the lips of the bassist, and he rested his face in his right hand. “…It’s just been a while since it’s just been you and me. That’s all. I mean, c’mon. Producers on one side of us, media on the other, we’re up to our necks in groupies- not that either one of us is complaining about that, let’s be real, Paul. But you can’t blame me for just enjoying the view for a few minutes… _And_ ,” That infamous _'Gene Simmons'_ grin snuck its way onto his face, and he put a little lusty growl into his voice, saying, “Paul, I gotta admit, it is one _hell_ of a view~”

A rough hand reached out and wrapped itself around the lead singer’s wrist, successfully yanking him down into the Demon’s lap.

“Oh, you- you brute!” Paul laughed, smiling from cheek to cheek even as he lightly smacked Gene’s chest. He wasted no time on making himself comfortable, resting his arms on Gene’s broad shoulders and hanging his legs over the armrest of the chair. “So, do you treat all your ladies in waiting this way, or am I just special~?”

“You’re special, Paul,” Gene promised him. He nosed into the crook of Paul’s neck and whipped his long tongue out against the soft skin right below his ear, causing him to giggle girlishly. “You’re my _shooting star_.”

Paul felt his whole body heat up under the sweet attention of his man, and he pulled his arms around his midsection, bringing them even closer together. Gene moved his lips a bit further north, diving in for a deep passionate kiss that they oh so desperately needed after so much time not giving into each other.

As they kissed, Paul brushed his hands under Gene’s tank and began rubbing at his chest and twisting his nipples almost painfully between his fingers, teasing him just a little as payback for yanking him down onto him.

"Mmmhm, baby,” Gene groaned, breaking apart for a moment. “That’s cheating!”

“You gotta learn that I’m not some dame that you can just throw over your shoulder, Mr. Big ‘N Bad.” Paul winked at him, then turned over in his lap, effectively escaping his grasping hands while he was temporarily distracted.

“Paaauul~ Ohh, baby, you can't just turn a guy on like this and leave him hanging!"

" _Moi_?" Paul exclaimed, dramatically, resting one hand against his chest and the other on his jutted-out hip. "Yeah, I'm the one doing the unfair turning on... All you have to do is just sit there, like a king on his throne, and you drive me freaking insane!”

"Well, I’ve always said I am a man who could be _king_ ,” Gene grinned, a bit smug. That little wriggle of his eyebrows and quick dash of his tongue against his lips wasn’t helping Paul’s condition any. In fact, it only had the lead singer turn around and give his ass a teasing shake before strutting over to the phone on the wall.

Gene’s eyes crawled over his body on his whole walk over to the phone, and Paul stuck out his long legs knowing just that. 

He reached out, picked the phone up, spun his fingers around its curly cord, and looked at the list of pizza joints that was scribbled down on a menu beside the phone. After picking an old favorite place of his, Paul turned his head back towards his partner, asking, “What do you want, Gene?”

“ _Sausage_ ,” Gene purred, deeply. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair before slowly making their way down to his jeans, rubbing themselves against his thighs. “Seven solid inches of nothing but the best sausage New York has to offer its king.”

Paul gave him a look. A look that consisted of a raised brow that said, _“If your head gets any bigger, then it’s going to explode.”_

“I’ll call in for nothing but a broccoli pizza if I don’t hear a serious answer.”

“…Classic New York style.”

“Now was that so hard?”

After placing the order and telling them which hotel and room they were in, Paul made his way back over to Gene’s lap. He let loose a deep sigh as he dropped himself down. “We got half an hour,”

“Thirty minutes or it’s free, don’t forget.” Gene rumbled, running his thick fingers through his partner’s dark fluffy hair.

“Gene,”

“And the kid shouldn’t expect a tip if they are late!”

“ _Gene_ ,” Paul sighed, drawing his attention back to him.

The bassist felt the corners of his lips draw back once more as he took in that cute little pouty look Paul wielded against his grumbles. It was enough to make him turn the subject back to more Paul related matters.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you trying to say something? Or maybe beg for something?” Gene growled, lowly, sensually into him. He brushed his nose against his cheek and swiped his tongue across the fine line of his jaw, drawing a delightful groan from his partner. “I think I know what it is… You just can’t wait for that _special sausage pizza_. It’s _hard_ , I know. But do you know what’s even _harder_ , baby?”

“Getting a number one single on the charts all across America?” Paul asked, coyly.

“ _Oooh_ , you wound me, Paulie,” Gene muttered, softly, feigning a sad look. “I think you meant, me!”

Gene grabbed Paul’s hips, moving his fingers down his pajama pants, and softly brushing his fingers below the band of his partner’s boxers. Teasingly, he retracted his hand immediately, and Paul drew in a sharp breath. Gene groped his side before eventually moving them both out of the chair and down onto the carpeted floor of them room. The bassist pinned the lead singer down on his front, holding him down with one hand, and racing his other up Paul’s back, up his sensitive neck, and through his fluffy mess of hair.

Paul’s body was begging for him, and Gene knew he couldn’t resist that call for much longer. He all but ripped his old shirt off, flinging it across the room before slowly dipping down to rest his chest on Paul’s back, bringing his lips to his ear.

“What do you want?” He whispered to him, and Paul whimpered below him.

“ _Touch me_ …. I want you to touch me.” He said, his voice holding its edge against him even as his body crumbled beneath him, and Gene complied. He pushed himself up, grinding his crotch right against Paul’s deliciously juicy ass, and touched.

His hands ran through his hair, along the sides of his neck, and pressed against those sensitive spots in between his shoulders. He raced his hands down the rest of his back, his fingertips caressing his partner’s pronounced muscles on the side of his hairy chest.

Paul moaned and huffed little sounds of wanting beneath him. When Gene’s calloused fingertips brushed over his fuzzy chest, Paul threw his head back into his shoulder, his breaths being drawn in short and quick. Eventually, he managed to turn around and have his back to the floor. As their chests bumped against each other, Gene slowly dragged his fingertips down his stomach, enjoying the feel of Paul’s hot lusty breath on his face. Then he slid his fingers into his boxers, through the curly hairs above Paul’s hard cock, sliding his other hand up to Paul’s nipple, circling the nub with his rough thumb. Paul whined, loudly, rocking his hips up into him. Gene growled in Paul’s ear, and grabbed the other man by the hips, proclaiming,

“Be patient, baby! We’re working up to it,” he huffed, licking his lips.

He wasn’t speaking for long, though. Paul was quick to fill his mouth, darting upward to claim his lips as his own. Paul hummed melodically into the deep kiss, and he momentarily thought about he how could strangely taste that Chicago pizza off Gene’s tongue. It wasn’t totally off putting, and Gene was plenty New York to overpower it, so Paul just deepened the kiss between them.

Gene continued to let his hands roaming over his body throughout the kiss, noticing the ways his partner’s body leaned into his touch whenever he brushed against a spot that felt particularly good to Paul. Gene made sure to move his fingers back over those spots to get a double reaction from him again, and again.

The two of them were so wrapped up in each other that the world around them seemed to disappear. It wasn’t until Paul was unbuttoning Gene’s jeans that a light chiming of the bell on the door of their suite broke their trance. It was followed by the anxious voice of a delivery boy, saying, “S- Sir, your delivery is here… Should I- I just leave it by the door, or-”

“I’ll be there in a second, kid,” Paul bit his lip and turned to Gene. There was no way he wanted to leave Gene’s passionate embrace earlier than he had to… but New York style pizza…

Truly, it was the struggle of the century.

“Gene,” Paul said, slipping out from under his partner. He rubbed his thumb against his index finger, motioning for cash. “Wallet, please.”

Gene raised his brow at that. “ _What_? Hey, listen, I don’t think we agreed on me paying for the pizza, Paulie.”

“ _Gene_ ,”

“ _Paul_ ,” he returned in that same exasperated tone.

“Wallet, now. _Please_ ~” Oh damn that Paul and the way his lips pouted like that. Reluctantly, Gene fished his wallet out from his back pocket and pulled a few solid bills from its folds. He shoved the money into Paul’s hands, then-

“ **Gene** ,” Paul’s look deepened. “The tip?”

“…Well, is he on time? Is he late?” 

The lead singer rolled his eyes at him. 

“ _Hey_ , I have to know! When’d you place the order, actually? Damn, Paul, why didn’t you just set an egg timer or something?”

“Oh, just fork over two or three bucks for the kid, you big baby.”

Having collected all the cash, Paul smoothed himself out the best he could before answering the door. After the exchange was completed, Paul shut the door and returned with a stack of three extra-large pizzas in his arms. He headed towards the table and dropped the pizza boxes down.

“Alright, dinner is served!” Paul announced, motioning towards the boxes.

“…What about the delicious _sausage_ I was about to serve up to you?”

“That’ll be for _dessert_ ,” Paul played off, smoothly, including a wink for good measure.

“It better be, baby,” Gene huffed, finally moving to stand up.

“Oh, don’t throw a fit,” The lead singer said, “We have food. I know you; you can’t be mad when we have food to serve you.”

“ _Fine_ ,” With that, Gene walked up beside him right as Paul opened the pizza box lid and inhaled. Oh, yeah. This was the good stuff. This was that special piece of home that he had missed on the road. Those morons in Chicago could suck ass, cause this right here- _this was the real shit_! Gene threw his nose into the air to catch that lovely scent of the garlic in the sauce, rich and pungent, mixed with just the right amount of oregano. By just looking, he could tell that it had the perfect balance of cheese and sauce, and that the crust was thin but not overcooked. Oh, it was a perfect little piece of heaven in a cardboard box.

He inhaled again. Oh, honey, this one wasn’t going to last long around him.

"Are you going to eat it or make love to it?" Paul murmured, strumming his fingers along the table top.

Gene fake gasped, saying, “Paul, as an artist, you should understand one’s need to take a moment to appreciate such a work of art like this!"

"Oh, for crying out loud- Gene, it's a _pizza_. Just like the hundreds of pizzas we've had before it.”

“Fine, fine.” Gene huffed, coming to his own conclusion that Paul was starting to get a little irritated from hunger. It had been hours since they managed to scarf down their breakfast and appear for a signing they had earlier. So, he couldn’t blame him too much.

Gene reached in and grabbed what he decided was the primo slice of the pie. He stepped out of Paul's way and sat down at the table as he grabbed his own slice.

Gene about purred at the loving smell the pizza was giving him. He folded his piece in half, preparing to lift it to his mouth, then went and shoved it into his mouth. He nearly spit it out, holding it between his teeth and grimacing.

"Slow down, Genie," Paul told him. "It's really hot!"

Gene was quick to give him a look that clearly said, _"Bitch, tell me something I don't fucking know."_

"Did you burn it?" Paul asked him as he cautiously took a bite of his own slice after blowing on it. He groaned into his, letting the flavors bloom inside his mouth, delivering everything the aroma of the pizza promised him. He was a bit quicker to blow on the rest of his pizza in order to devour it all up.

"Fuckin’ burn wha'?" Gene mumbled, grumpily, then bit into his second mouthful more cautiously.

Paul stifled a giggle. “You burned your tongue,”

“ _Shut up,_ ”

“Fire won’t do it, but some oven fresh pizza… Well, okay,” Paul finally laughed. 

“You ass,”

“I think you mean, _Paul, you fine as hell ass._ ” Paul corrected him as he tossed the remains of his gnawed pizza crust back in the box as he helped himself to another slice.

Gene shrugged in a silent agreement as he folded his piece and took a huge bite. "Whichever works for me..." he said around a mouthful of food.

“Gene, you’re gonna choke.”

“Nahuh,” But his response went unheard. He looked up and whipped his head around to see Paul walking to the mini fridge and walk back to hand him a bottle of water.

“You need to stay hydrated, anyway,” he told him. Gene gave him a thumbs up in thanks, lips still wrapped around his pizza and still attempting to shove it all in. But the cheese slid back from where his teeth had chewed through the top of the slice, falling back, allowing the hot cheese and sauce to plop down right onto his lap.

“ _FUCK_!" His yelp of pain was sharp and loud as hell, dropping the remains of the piece in his mouth down onto the table top, he leapt up and tried to dislodge the pool of hot sticky cheese clinging to the crotch of his jeans. " ** _FUCK!_** _Ow, ow, ow! OW! Sonovabitch, this shit’s still hot_!"

Instantly, Paul came to his partner's rescue. Grabbing Gene by the shoulder, he anchored him in place, then used the tips of his fingers to quickly pry the heavy wad of hot cheese off his partner's pants. God, why the hell didn't they have any napkins!?

Gene, desperately trying to pull his skin-tight jeans away from the most sensitive- and arguably most important, besides his handsome as hell face and long tongue- part of his body, but he wasn't having much luck. The grease and sauce that still clung to the fabric was hot enough to scald him.

Without any sort of hesitation, Paul's hand reached out and grabbed Gene's full bottle of water, opening it up and using it to douse the hot spot.

“Ahh, fuck," The bassist yelled, but he then realized the pain from the hot greasy cheese had stopped. “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck…_ ” 

Carefully, his thumbs gripped the sides of his jeans and began to move them down, cringing a bit since the skin around his crotch was now rather sensitive. While he stared in consternation at his cheese-and-water soaked pants, his partner ran back to the mini fridge and grabbed some ice from its cooler, shoving the ice in a plastic bag that was sitting on the counter.

He offered it up, and Gene took it, resting the ice bag atop his cold, wet boxers. “Quick thinking, Paulie,” Gene groaned, watching as Paul began to make him busy moving the pizza boxes over to the counter top.

“Any man would’ve done the same.” Paul said, walking back behind his partner, resting his hands atop his broad shoulders. “Wanna move over to the couch and relax for a bit? Relax and forget about this mess?”

“Hahh, yeah,” Gene nodded, “But hey, help me get my pants off… cause they’re wet and stuff. I’ll let you really get into them later, after the burn wears off.”

It wasn’t long before Paul had him settled on the couch and had nestled his backside into Gene’s embrace. Together, the two fit like a glove, and they let out a deep relieving sigh once they settled in just right. Gene reached his top arm around to grasp Paul’s hand from where it laid at his side.

“I ruined dinner, didn’t I?” he started. “And the whole mood, too, huh?”

“You didn’t ruin anything, baby,” Paul sighed, gently leaning back to bump his head into the curve of Gene’s neck. “Life just tries to get us down, that’s it. But we’re still here.”

“…Hey, don’t try to turn this into a song, please, Paul. Don’t do it-” Gene said, earning an unstifled laugh from his partner. It was probably that deadpanned delivery he said it with, but it had Paul chuckling for a solid minute.

“What? I could maybe string something together…” Paul smiled, “ _Don’t want to wait till my dick burns off~ Get it off~ Get it off~ It’s burning me right now~_ ” he sung sarcastically to the tune of Lick It Up. His altered rendition did not earn any sort of applause, but he could certainly feel the look Gene was giving the back of his head.

“Would it help if I gave you a _solo_ in it?” Paul asked him.

Gene rolled his eyes, “Sure, but I’d rather have _this_.” He said before peppering the back of Paul’s bare shoulder, his neck, and the side of his face with kisses. Happily, Paul gave in to the attention, his body automatically writhing under Gene’s loving touch.

The bassist’s hips began to rut into Paul’s ass, trying to build back up that friction from earlier. His burned crotch couldn’t make do with the heated movements, though. So, Gene had to settle for drawing his partner closer, enveloping him in his body heat.

Paul let out a pitiful sound caught between a long sigh and a moan, feeling for Gene and knowing what they both really wanted right then and there. It was going to agonizing, but they would have to wait till tomorrow morning to fill their desires.

After turning around in his arms, bumping his chest against Gene’s, Paul gently nosed into the crook of his neck and sighed, deeply. “Guess we'll have to wait till tomorrow, yeah?”

“...I blame _Chicago_ ,”

Paul snorted, that warm smile slowly coming back to his face. “That had nothing to do with this, baby.”

“We ordered pizza to replace the taste of theirs, so it’s _their_ fault.” Gene huffed, leaning down to change the subject and get in a good kiss. They broke apart slowly, letting the taste of one another linger between their tongue for longer than it had to.

Between them, words weren’t needed. All they needed was to share that old look they shared from time to time, looking deep into each other’s eyes.

Saying that they had the others back went without saying. Saying they would go on no matter the risks went without a single hesitant thought. And saying they loved the other- well, as much Gene and Paul hated like sounding like broken records, they made an exception for it.

“I love you,”

“Love you, too,”


End file.
